


The Curator

by axe_writes



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 07:47:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3282530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/axe_writes/pseuds/axe_writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had existed in countless generations, and has witnessed countless lifetimes. He is no longer a relevant pawn to fate.</p>
<p>So what is his purpose now?</p>
<p>Well, at least, Ganondorf didn't expect to be working in a museum under the curator, Zelda Harkinian. Neither was he ready for old, dormant memories to resurface and unfold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Curator

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really new to writing, but I think I'm enjoying it so-far!
> 
> I admit, it's a pretty odd concept, but there's a surprising lack of Modern AUs in the Zelda fandom in general from what I've seen. 
> 
> Updating will be kinda slow, honestly, but I hope you like it regardless!

He had existed in countless generations, and has witnessed countless lifetimes. The existence of the triforce has long been forgotten and lost to mere fairy tales and lore, as his motives faded along with it. He was a very, very old soul, and the very fact began to catch up to him.   
He is no longer a relevant pawn to fate.   
So what is his purpose now?

…

Ganondorf looked up at the slow ceiling fan as it droned on, raising his hand to rub the remaining sleep off of his face only to be met with the faint smell of alcohol lingering on his fingertips. He groaned, immediately sitting up, the sudden rise causing his head to throb in pain, pounding in his ears.

_Ugh._

_Where? When?_

The sun was just rising over the city skyline, peering through the dented blinds of the window, illuminating the apartment in horizontal streaks. _His apartment_. That’s right, this was his apartment. Why else would there be empty bottles of whisky scattered across the floor? No, he wasn’t an alcoholic. At least, that’s what he’d like to think. Then again, it was probably his pride that couldn’t accept the idea that he was being controlled by something so petty. He hated the very idea of it.   
He was not particularly far into this current life, compared to all the previous ones, but regardless, it was never easy to have to be constantly adapting to the times, especially these days. Perhaps somewhere along the line, he stopped caring so much and handed reasoning over to the bottle of liquor.   
The man was not quite in his… prime. 

\--- 

Ganondorf stepped out into the early morning avenue, taking in the crisp, chilly winter air, visible traces of mist escaping from his breath. Digging his hands into the pockets of his coat, the man made his way to the open city streets. The bustle of early birds, the buzz of cars passing down the strip, the bitter scent of coffee wafting in the air. Hyrule had really changed in ways Ganondorf would have never imagined. He did sometimes dream of the old, “glory” days; the power, the influence-- heck, he even somewhat missed the company of a certain princess, or hero. Alas, it too was all lost in the past. 

In fact, this wasn’t even the Hyrule Castle _Town_ \-- this was Hyrule Castle _City_. He always had considered the name more of a convenience than anything. It was an entirely new establishment, separate from the original, which was further up north and a touch to the east, where the only remaining relics of true lore lingered upon the fragile old Hyrule Castle. To him, visiting that one place to get that one feeling was all he needed. Of course, it was too far away, and he could never afford it. 

_deep in thought. deep in thought. foot steps stop._

Ganondorf froze in his path and looked up, squinting past the glare of the morning sun to where deep purple banners fluttered at the pillars of the museum. The museum. He almost didn't want to admit to this sort-of guilty pleasure, but Ganondorf did take a certain level of gratification from appeasing to these cravings that yearned for the past when visiting the museum… on an almost regular occasion. 

Suppose it wouldn’t hurt to pay another visit. 

He climbed the steps and entered the grand, marble forum, marching straight forward, to the left, to the right… His feet took him through the halls as if it was simply muscle memory, up the stairs, to the left, to the right, up again... 

Eventually he settled his pace to open the large, wooden door to the room of ancient Hylian artifacts. The room that holds all the inspiration for all the fairy tales, and stories. It was a shame how hidden away and unknown it was in recent days, but he mused that it was probably better that way. Better for him. 

Despite how awful, and sickly, and old it made him feel, Ganondorf had visited this room more times than any other in the museum. 

He strolled past the glass-encased displays, skimming past their image, looking back into the memories they hold, and-- _what’s this?_ This particular item wasn’t part of the exhibit, unless memory was failing him again. A bronze brace. A new item? Surely not. He leaned in closer to inspect it’s-- 

“Hold it.” 

Ganondorf paused. A little frightened in apprehension? Who the hell was in here other than him? 

“Oh! You’re a little early, aren’t you?” 

He looked up. It was a petite, young woman, gracing her years of adulthood it seemed. Well kept, well dressed. Pinned up golden hair, green eyes shielded by glass masked in dark frames-- 

"Zelda?" the name escaped his lips. 

“Pardon? It is Ms. Harkinian, thank you. As someone who seemed to be so eager for the position, I’d expect you to be more respectful than to pass into a room that forbids visitors at the point in time for obvious reasons, and on top of that, addressing me by my first name when we haven’t even been remotely acquainted,” the woman huffed, straightening her posture in authority. 

“I-I’m sorry. Please excuse me, Ms. Harkinian…” He was partially genuine on those words. After all, he wasn’t quite sure what was going on. Who was this lady? He regretted the embarrassment that followed after the name slipped-- it'd been so long since he's said the very name that it seemed to leave a dry taste in his mouth. But indeed, her name was Zelda? The resemblance was uncanny. _Freakishly_ uncanny. 

“Perhaps if you’d have the manners to introduce yourself, your actions may be forgivable.” 

“Mmph… It’s Ganondorf.” She remained silent, waiting for his last name. He sighed, grumbling a little in agitation. “Dragmire. Ganondorf Dragmire.”   
Dragmire. A name adopted by the Hylians. His true name apparently didn’t fit their delicate tongues. He had eventually accepted the name after centuries of his blessed Gerudo right being butchered by their mouth. 

“Mister Dragmire. Very interesting,” she mumbled to herself taking mental notes, “Well, now, I suppose that you are here, we might as well start your interview.” 

“Interview?” 

“For the position, of course. I just can't give the job to anyone that asks for it, can I? I hope you've come more prepared than what you are showing now. Come. Follow me,” Harkinian turned to walk towards the back the back door, to the left, to the right, her heels clicking against the hard surface as the noise echoes through cold, quiet halls that were unfamiliar to him. 

\--- 

They entered a small office space, deep within the museum halls. Ganondorf thought he knew the the building like the back of his hands… Apparently not.   
Ms Harkinian strided across the room, settling herself on the dark leather seat at the one side of the large, oak desk. She removed her glasses, placing them to the side before shuffling through bundles of papers and files. “Please, take a seat,” she nodded to the small wooden chair across from her. He huffed a little, shuffling across the floor, carefully placing himself onto the seat. 

“My apologies, I will just be a moment. Please, fill this form out and we shall get started. Here,” she passed him a form before rustling through her own papers again.   
Ganondorf looked down and flipped through the file. 

_‘Curator Apprentice Application’.  
_

_Uhh…_

“Thank you for waiting. Well, let’s get right to it, Mister Dragmire.” 

Ganondorf knew that he might’ve been walking into trouble-- before, he was just afraid he was going to get kicked out, but now…? 

“Excuse me, Ms. Harkinian, but--” 

She raised her hand before him, clearing her throat, “Please leave all questions until the end. Now, I have a few questions for you. Are you ready, Mister Dragmire?”   
Ganondorf swallowed the lump forming in his throat. His hands getting a little clammy. He nodded. 

_What the hell was he doing?_

… 

“And how do you think your expertises would help the efforts of the exhibition?” 

“Well, like I said, I guess I’m quite interested about ancient Hylian history. Legends, lore, that sort of stuff.” 

“Are you sure? I assure you, Mister Dragmire, we’re looking for much more than just _interest._ ” 

“Oh, I think I’m very sure. I know much more than you think,” he smirked. 

“Really now? Well, I supposed you may have to demonstrate more than just your words.” 

“Well, that new bronze brace in the display may be forged in a traditional Northern Hylian mold, but I can assure you, the design and materials are more like that of traditional Goron artisans. I implore you to maybe look into the artifacts that you find, and not just where you find them.” Ganondorf sat back with a smug look on his face. It’s been a long time since he had the chance to outwardly express his musings. 

“Well, yes, I…” Harkinian paused, “Well, yes, the exhibition is still in the works, but… I admit, I’m impressed,” she slightly opened her mouth as if she wanted to say more, but stopped at just that.   
Silence settled in the room once again, and Ganondorf started to feel the tension rising again. 

“I apologise, that is all we have time for today,” she sat up, brushing off her skirt. He followed her through towards the exit, rushing ahead to open the door for her. The act took her by surprise as she looked up at him, and only then did she realise a height difference. Suddenly, the two were both very aware of it. 

“Thank you, Mister Dragmire,” she promptly stepped out of the room, “Please close the door behind you. I’ve enjoyed our little meeting. I hope that you still have enough of that ‘interest’ to come back here tomorrow,” she bowed before walking down, to the left, heels clicking against the hard surface as the noise echoes through cold, quiet halls, out of sight. 

Ganondorf sighed, mentally trying the ease the tense knots in his body. 

_‘Come back here tomorrow’ ?  
_

_Wait. Did he get the job? No way._

He guessed, after all these years, He did need a job. Maybe this was going to be better than he expected. Maybe he’d play the game for a little while. 

Heck, he even somewhat missed the company of a certain princess.


End file.
